" I to be rocked to the soul by a passion I couldn't control, an obsessive, unquenchable desire that burned through the night, blazed shadows against the stars, and brought new meaning to a world gone stale. Purpose."

Please Note: "A Woman on the Wild side" is a blog written by Anastasia Blackwell chronicling her journey in Argentina, featuring a mysterious young man named Tamerlane Rivera. The series will be published upon completion.

A Rebel is Born

America 1776 - a new constitution affords "men" their God given divine right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

America 2013 - "The divine right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness will never hold up in court," a prominent attorney told me. "Courts are created for attorneys to make a living and justice is for those who can pay for it."

"An injustice to one citizen is a blow to us all," I protested.

He nodded with a patronizing mile.

'Art is a powerful means of expressing social, political and emotional discontent, and rebellion is often best clothed in subtext. But sometimes you have to speak your mind, and not give a damn about the consequences', I wrote in my journal.

To that end, I took action.

In a serendipitous moment, alone on the Buenos Aires streets while visiting my son studying abroad in Argentina, I came upon a political demonstration. The passion and vigor of the congregated masses transformed the air with the thrill of possibility. The throng took me deep into their folds and moved me, like the undertow of a current, to face an imposing judicial building. Beneath the colorful flags of the demonstrators and the brightly lit Tribunal voices elevated by loud speakers exposed truths, both esoteric and unspeakable.

They cried out against a government that had lost touch with the needs and desires of its citizens. They spoke of inflation, political corruption, unjust courts, and greedy banks, and even darker, of torture, underground justice, and stolen and murdered children. It was a triumphant showdown of man against institution, beneath an enraptured sky.

The speeches of men and women of all ages and ethnicities echoed through the night, as tears were shed and a torrent of human emotions swelled up and filled our hearts. Light flooded from the windows of the stoic building, held strong by its columns, unmoving, defiant, secure in its weight and position, as the police closed in.

We stood before the Goliath building, a glorious sea of humanity, together in our purpose to fight for our God given rights - the promise of Democracy.

A man positioned himself next to me - tall, powerfully built, dressed in a pea coat and jeans, with golden skin and lush dark hair spilling to his collar, topped by a black fedora displaying a gold crescent pin. He bestowed warm brown eyes and a smile, his teeth glimmering white beneath the bloated moon. His Spanish baritone resonated like a caress.

"You are an American?" he asked.

"How did you know?"

"We cannot allow government institutions rule us through fear," he stated simply.

The night had grown cold with the passing clouds, and I folded my arms and drew my coat tight, while searching his intense eyes. Lost there, I saw something of myself reflected back, a part of me I had not known existed until that moment - and something profound began to awaken. Flags waved the image of revolutionary Che Guevara and patriotic music stirred the citizens to near riot.

"I am a single mother. How can I stand up against a powerful male patriarchal system? The American constitution was meant to be democratic, but it was forged by founding fathers, not mothers."

“Your founding fathers fought a similar battle, only as the bastard children of a strict and unyielding father across the Atlantic. You can accept their remedy or choose your own. There are many ways to revolt and many ways to achieve your goals once you set them,” he said, with a charming smile.

"Are you a revolutionary?"

"A transformationalist."

"I'm not familiar with the ideology."

"My name is Tamerlane Rivera. Welcome to my country," he said, and he offered his hand.

The crowd roared, canons fired, and a zealous, chaotic energy infused the square that was intoxicating, exhilarating. Yet, it wasn't enough - I wanted more.

I wanted to be rocked to the soul by a passion I couldn't control, taken to the furthest edge of mind and body, by an obsessive, unquenchable desire that burned through the night, blazed shadows against the stars and brought new meaning to a world gone stale. Purpose.

journey shifted in the moment, my perception of reality altered, like awakening to a winter morning with a freshly fallen blanket of snow, pristine, untouched, ready for the weight of the first footsteps to bring life a hidden landscape ready for the taste of something new.

The protesters that began the expansive "Occupy Wall Street " movement are examples of the power of One Voice. They are not alone in the history of uprisings that have changed the course of history.

In my case, a terrifying experience in a haunted house on an island outside Montreal segued with injustice in the chambers of a private judge in the family court system. At the time, I felt I had no voice. So, I began to write the story of a world-weary American woman's story of transformation and empowerment in the French Canadian underground.

I wrote the following piece to remind myself that one must be brave and speak the truth for the good of the world.

One Voice

A man sat at an ornate desk and gazed at a blank parchment. On the paper he had agreed to write a proclamation, a fiery statement that would be delivered to the King and all of his courtiers and officers. it was a document that would irrevocably alter his life.

He realized he was jeopardizing everything he owned and held sacred. The lovely estate he had designed himself and furnished with artifacts from around the world, the gardens he had tended and nurtured would be confiscated. His servants would be out of jobs - employment they needed to survive. His cherished family would lose their comforts, and his wife would be reduced to working in the households of the nobles, if they would take her at all. The prospects of his children be would horribly altered. His daughters' marital opportunities would be diminished and his sons' opportunities limited to those of farmer or laborer, rather than gentleman.

Even worse, he understood if he wrote and signed the proclamation he would likely be hung by the neck in the gallows. He would be publicly humiliated in front of his wife and children and all of the community that looked up to him as a man of high position. Once he finished putting ink to the parchment his life as he knew it was over.

Five men waited for the document - the well positioned men had chosen him to create the first draft. He had only written a few words, then just a few paragraphs, when he was compelled to stop. He was aghast at his own vehemence - he had called the King a tyrant! Surely the others would think him mad for using such an explosive word.

Then, like one possessed, his pen began to scratch at the parchment, his hand desperately seeking to keep up with the words raging from his mind. Once he had written of the horrible deeds of the King against his countrymen, the lost lives and futures, insults to dignity and honour, crimes against his comrades, his brethren - there was no turning back. He completed the deed and signed the document with relish.

The man gently picked up the parchment, still wet with the black ink from the crystal ink holder given to him as a present from his beloved father, and walked from the sun drenched room. His carriage waited outside, and within the hour he delivered the document to the five illustrious men. To his surprise, they did not attempt to edit his words, instead they reinforced them by signing their names. Then, it was delivered to the Commission, where each added their name to the list. His voice became stronger as each signed the document, and it soon became a throng of cries from citizens who had been mistreated for too long.

The voice of the man at the desk has never stopped speaking. His voice caused the downfall of a government. His voice helped to create a new constitution based on its precepts. His voice has resonated through three centuries, and continues to speak throughout the world. One man's proclamation is now viewed by most of mankind as Divine Right - the Divine Right of the Individual for Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It marks the birth of democracy.

The man was Thomas Jefferson and his proclamation - The Declaration of Independence.

xxxx

May we all be bold and brave in standing up for our God given rights - and those of our comrades.